


The Suggestion

by Calvi_sama, Rapscallion



Series: Answered [3]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 17:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1558382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calvi_sama/pseuds/Calvi_sama, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rapscallion/pseuds/Rapscallion





	The Suggestion

Cid seemed to have attached some special significance to that kiss. Logically, Vincent knew it had been more than a simple friendly or familial action, but it had seemed necessary at the time. He was as bad as Cid, saying and doing things and then finding himself unable to follow through on what he'd started.

Progressing from a friendship, though, particularly with a friend as excitable and volatile as Cid could be, sounded trickier than pretending nothing was out of the ordinary. Still, that wasn't fair to either of them, especially when Vincent had been so determined to get a reaction from Cid that day.

Just jumping into an assumption seemed like a poor idea as well, because Cid had been so hesitant and apologetic that Vincent wasn't entirely sure that the man knew what he was doing. Vincent certainly didn't; his closest relationship with anyone in years had amounted to a few yearly visits and a pile of saved messages.

The easiest way to go about it all, then, was to let Cid make the move if there was a move to be made. Vincent was as uncertain about that as he was about whether Cid would work himself up to making said move. Vincent hadn't ever mastered chess the way his father had hoped, but he did know enough to know that the game could be so slow as to be nearly painful. He had a feeling they were in for that, and for being stuck in positions that required some sort of sacrifice to break.

Cid would probably want nothing to do with him if he had any way of knowing that Vincent was enjoying his discomfort from an observational standpoint, but he couldn't help it. People and the things they did were so very interesting, and Vincent had been so far removed from it all for such a long time.

Even now he could feel himself being drawn into it all on a more personal level, and he suspected that when that was done, it would be a whole lot less fun and a whole lot more stressful. A man had to enjoy what fun he could while it lasted, because sooner or later it would leave him.

With all this in mind, Vincent invited himself to sit close beside Cid the next time the man corralled them into watching a move that Vincent " _had_ to see." Shera didn't seem to mind, and he had a feeling Cid wouldn't either.

 

He had told himself that it would be a good idea, that it _had_ to be a good idea. It would give him a chance to sit close to Vincent, maybe sneak an arm around the gunman surrpetitiously, maybe lean a little _too_ much... but then here they were, in a darkened room with everyone crammed on the couch and passing a popcorn bowl back and forth. Shera was leaning on _him_ , quite content, warm and sweet-smelling with that perfume that he liked so much, and Vincent... Vincent was sitting too close as well. Hell, it almost felt like the man was sitting _on_ him. Vincent was warm, too, and smelled, well, like _Vincent_ , and that mild soap that Vincent liked to use and the subtle, masculine scent that was uniquely Vincent, and- Cid swallowed hard, Vincent smelled so _good_. Dimly, he wondered what Vincent would smell like naked-

“Cid? Did you hear what I said?” Shera asked, tilting her head to look up at him.

Cid startled violently, nearly upending the popcorn bowl and spilling its contents onto the floor. “What? Dammit Shera, I was thinkin'!” he exclaimed, perhaps a little more forcefully than he should have.

Shera smiled and patted the hand that was gripping his thigh with white knuckles as she took the popcorn bowl from him. “It's okay, captain, it's not really important. All I asked was if you wanted anything to drink.”

“Huh? Oh, uh, nah, I'm good,” Cid chuckled shakily, reaching up to reflexively rub the back of his neck. _Oh hell, this is th' worst idea I think I've ever had_ , he thought miserably. It had been a week and a half since the kiss he had shared with Vincent, and Cid had thought that things would have worked themselves out, gotten easier, but they hadn't. Instead, that kiss was all Cid had thought about. It had made him jumpy around Vincent and over-careful about where he stood, where he put his hands and even what came out of his mouth, which was in and of itself noteworthy since his brain-mouth filter was unreliable at best.

Shera's smile widened a little and she patted his hand again before leaning over Cid slightly and asking, “How about you, Vincent? Would you like something to drink?” 

"No, thank you," Vincent said. "Perhaps some earplugs, if Cid plans to continue speaking at that volume." He shot the pilot an amused look. "Or will you be going back to thinking now?" Cid had seemed to be in thought an awful lot lately, which Vincent supposed wasn't unusual.

Cid shot Vincent a dark look. “Maybe I will if ya got such a problem with m' voice,” he said defensively.

Shera sighed and shook her head. “Boys, am I going to have to sit between you two?” She reached up and placed a hand on Cid's chest. “Cid, Vincent was just teasing. I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it.”

“I know that, woman!” Cid snapped, then caught himself. He took her hand and squeezed it gently, managing a small, if tense, smile. “I'll be good.” He said in a quieter, more controlled tone.

Shera patted his chest with her fingers before withdrawing her hand and turning her head back toward the movie. Cid shot Vincent another scowl before also attempting to turn his attention back to the film and silently vowing not to speak again lest he offend his particular guest further. It was easier, then, to focus upon the movie, even it was one of Shera's favorites and one he found rather boring and emotion-y. Anything to take his mind away from the tension he felt sitting so close to Vincent. 

Vincent still didn't particularly understand the appeal of movies in general, and this one was ranking among his least favorites of the ones he had made it through. Sitting still for so long and being expected to focus upon something with no real value left him restless and unfulfilled. He had expected to feel that way about living here in general, but it had mostly agreed with him, staying in one place with the same people...for the time being, anyway.

"What am I supposed to be learning from this?" he asked, voice low near Cid's ear so Shera wouldn't hear and get annoyed at them. "It seems to be all about people making poor decisions and being rewarded for them." He had been especially unamused by the man who had decided to leave his wife and child in pursuit of more money only to find himself stranded and penniless across the country-- and that woman and his child just behind him, having followed him though he had chosen to leave them behind.

Cid, having grown more and more bored himself, was quite glad to break his vow and leaned back toward Vincent with an equally whispered, “I have no fuckin' clue. I mean, th' man's an-” his eyes left the screen to follow the direction he was speaking and he was struck momentarily speechless by how close his face was to Vincent's, “- an idiot... if ya ask me.” He sat back slightly as he finished speaking, putting a bit more distance between them. 

"Hm," Vincent responded, wondering if that was the point. Either the movie was telling them a pretty lie about how things worked out no matter how many foolish things a person did, or Shera was trying to get them to view the characters as idiots. He chanced a glance over at Shera and decided against the latter. She was a little misty-eyed, but entirely focused on the movie and not on them. Maybe the movie would make sense in the end, if she liked it so much. "How does it end?" he whispered. 

“Uh,” Cid muttered, embarassed. “I don't remember. I think I blocked it out, 'r somethin'.” It was a tough confession considering how much Shera loved the movie and the frequency with which she insisted that he watch it. “Guess we'll just have 't watch th' rest o' th' damn thing 'n find out. Think ya c'n manage it?” 

"I can if you can," Vincent said, settling back against the couch and waiting it out. Somehow, finally, the movie came to an end. He knew this only because the screen went dark in order for credits to roll, white letters spelling out hundreds of names. "Does it take so many people to make something like that? There were only twenty-seven actors in the entire film, including crowd scenes," he said, looking incredulously to Cid and Shera. 

Cid snorted. “Never understood it m'self, Vince."

Shera looked at both of them reproachfully. “Well of _course_ it does! There's lighting and set development, wardrobe and makeup, catering to make sure everyone is fed, script support all the way down to the volunteers and message runners! It takes quite a lot of people, in fact, to create a film.” 

Cid shot Vincent an apologetic look. “Well, there ya go! Can't believe I didn't think 'o that!” 

Shera made it sound as if the people in movies couldn't feed or dress themselves. Maybe it was true. Acting seemed like the sort of job that would work for a person lacking basic skills, particularly if there was service staff to tend to all their needs. He was quite sure that when he'd been younger, the film industry hadn't been quite the same. "It sounds like a good job, being an actor. I hear they make an awful lot of money. Do you think they would take me?" he asked, trying his best to sound sincere though he doubted either of them would take him seriously. 

There were several seconds where both Cid and Shera stared at Vincent, blinking owlishly. While Shera fought to keep her expression straight, doing a rather admirable job of it, Cid cleared his throat awkwardly a couple of times before he finally found his voice. “Well, Vincent, I-“ he searched for words for a moment, looking pleadingly to Shera for help. When none came, he turned back to his friend and the expression on Vincent’s face made him struggle for the most diplomatic answer without sacrificing honesty. 

’S’not like I don’t think ya can’t do it, s’just actors need t’ be able to, well, emote a little more better’n what ya seem able t’ do right now, s’all. I mean-“ he turned more fully towards Vincent, getting into it a little more now that he found his words, “take th’ guy in the movie we just watched. D’you really think you’d be able to do what he did ‘n say those things ‘n make people believe it? Make it real?” 

"I was supposed to find that believable?" Vincent asked, mimicking Cid's puzzled and pained expression. "Anyway, I made you believe I was serious just now, didn't I?" he asked, giving Cid half a smile before standing. "Thank you very much for the viewing experience, Shera. It was very educational." It hadn't been educational at all, but that seemed like a polite thing to say. "I can take your glass if you're through with it."

Shera smiled brightly at Vincent and handed him her empty glass. “Thank you, Vincent, that’s very thoughtful of you, and you’re quite welcome! I’ll let you know when the next movie night is. It’s nice to find someone who finally can appreciate a good movie. The captain certainly doesn’t, though he’ll indulge me every now and then,” she said making a face at Cid and swatting him playfully on the shoulder.

Cid affected a hurt expression before kissing her on the forehead. “Aw c’mon Sher, now that ain’t fair,” he whined goodnaturedly. “Y’know I got stuff t’do ‘n there’s the _Shera_ what with th’ addition I’m makin’ ‘n-“

“I know, I know,” Shera laughed, patting Cid on the shoulder where she’d just smacked him. “Now that Vincent’s here, I’ll stop bothering you with watching them all the time.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy t’ watch ‘em with ya, won’t’cha Vince?” he asked with an evil little smile quirking his lips up. He hadn’t appreciated Vincent’s flippant little joke on his behalf when he was only trying to be nice and Cid tended to have the memory of an adamantoise when he perceived a slight. 

Vincent's eyes widened and he made a small choking sound. He had walked right into that one, hadn't he? "Something like that seems like it ought to be a family affair, Cid. The man of the house shirking his most important duties! What would your parents think?" There was a topic Vincent hadn't tried exploring yet; a man like Cid must have had very interesting parents.

He left Cid to stew on that as he headed for the kitchen. Finally he knew how to load the dishwasher without overloading it or putting things in potential positions for breaking. He probably owed Cid a whole stack of plates, but Shera had kept his secrets for him.

Cid rolled his eyes and Shera chuckled when Vincent left the room and entered the kitchen. He poked Shera in the ribs playfully. “Kinda weak comeback, huh?” he snickered. “Bein’ an ex-Turk I kinda expected somethin’ a little heavier’n that!”

Shera nodded. “Maybe a little bit,” she giggled. “He didn’t like the movie, did he?” she asked rhetorically. “I heard you two whispering, you’re so predictable!”

“Thanks a lot, doll,” Cid said wryly with a grin on his face and winking one blue eye at her. “Nah, he didn’t, not really. ‘E’s just too polite t’ admit it.”

Shera laughed again. “Oh I think he’s quite charming, if a little awkward, rather like a large teenager.”

“Interestin’ analogy,” Cid admitted thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with the hand not around Shera’s shoulders. “Pretty darn accurate, actually.” A couple of minutes of silence passed before Cid stretched and pulled his arm away from around Shera’s shoulders. “Well, I think I’m gonna step outside ‘n have a smoke. You goin’ t’bed then?”

“I think so, I’ve been a little tired lately,” Shera said sliding to the edge of the couch and rising to her feet. 

“You feelin’ all right?” Cid asked peering up at her worriedly.

“Oh yes,” Shera hastened to reassure him. “Just been working too hard on that new engineering project to the south of Rocket Town.”

“Huh, that damned oil rig Barret asked ya t’ look into? Load o’ hooey if’n ya ask me,” Cid grumbled and climbed to his feet. He put his hands on Shera’s shoulders and kissed her forehead again. “Get some sleep, kid, okay? ‘N let me know if I c’n get’cha anything.”

“I will, captain,” Shera said with a gentle smile. “Please tell Vincent good night for me?”

“’Course,” Cid said with a smile.

Shera squeezed his arm once before taking herself to bed. Cid smiled kindly as he watched her leave before taking himself outside for his smoke. 

 

The sound of the front door caught Vincent's attention and held it. Shera wouldn't be going out so late, which meant Cid was probably sitting on the porch as usual, starting his nightly ritual with a cigarette. Sometimes Vincent joined him and sometimes he didn't, but tonight felt like a night when he should.

Maybe it was the way the sound echoed so sharply in the quiet house, in itself a reminder that Cid could leave, the same way Cid's closeness with Shera was a reminder that Cid might choose someone else even now. He was free to make his choices, but Vincent found more and more that he wanted to be a part of those decisions. It made him uncomfortable to consider, because Cid had chased Vincent down and taken the man into his home, and what had Vincent done except continue to stand in Cid's way but out of his reach?

Not that he seemed very concerned with reaching, at least not in the ways Vincent had expected. Every time he thought he understood Cid, he saw a completely different side to the man that left him feeling just as distant as ever. He thought he might like help fixing that, and not just as it pertained to Cid, but he had little idea how to ask. Cid might not even understand.

"What did you feel?" he asked, appearing silently at the man's side-- at least, if not for the sound of the door, he would have been silent. "Those years when all your dreams were out of reach?"

Cid looked over at Vincent standing next to him like a silent shadow and raised his eyebrows before grunting and facing the front yard again. He had finally gotten used to the silent way the man moved. When he stilled his mind, Cid could tell Vincent was around him by the way he felt and the way the air took on a heavy, expectant quality. Exhaling slowly, the blue-gray smoke drifting upwards lazily, he pulled his feet in closer on the step they were on and leaned forward onto his knees, considering Vincent's question. “Oh, nothin' good, really. Mostly felt angry 'n frustrated, sad, depressed.” He shrugged one of his heavy shoulders. “Some days were worse 'n others, had t' find reasons to keep goin', keep tryin'. Why ya ask?” 

"Because I can't even remember what dreams I once had," he said, easing himself down beside Cid. "And I know that I should feel those things, too, but sometimes it's hard to find them. Sometimes it's hard to feel anything at all. Did you ever feel that way?"

“Nah, can't says as I have, Vince,” Cid said quietly, reaching up to pat Vincent companionably on the back. He grew thoughtful for a moment before taking another easy drag on his cigarette and exhaling contentedly. “But I ain't surprised 'at 'cha feelin' that way, what with what you've been through. I 'magine ya shut 'em off in order t' survive. Me? I think I'd'a prob'ly lost it a long time ago if our positions had been switched.” He shuddered at the thought, flicking the end of ashes out and away from them. “Have ya ever stopped t' consider that maybe ya can't 'member what'chur dreams were 'cause they ain't worth havin' anymore? I reckon yer a lot different man than th' one what had those particular dreams.” 

"Could be," Vincent agreed idly, half-smiling at the combination of Cid's endearing manner of speaking and his logic. "But there are times when everything doesn't feel so shut away. Those times only happen when I'm with you. You make me want to remember so I can tell you, even if just to hear you laugh at me. You make me want to feel things so I can share in your emotions. I wanted you to know," he ended simply, his fingers reaching out and wrapping around Cid's wrist, then just resting there against the outside of Cid's knee.

Cid's heart stuttered in his chest at the feel of Vincent's hand on his wrist and he swallowed, clearing his throat. He had to tear his attention away from that warm contact in order to focus enough to answer Vincent's confession. “Well I'm- I'm glad I could make ya feel somethin', Vincent.” He pulled his eyes up to Vincent's and grinned. “I take that as a compliment, but I want'cha t' know that I'd never laugh at'cha,” he said softly, studying the way the shadows complimented that pale, elegant face. Cid chuckled, “Cloud? Diff'rent story, but never you.” 

"I'd like to be the one to make you laugh sometimes, I think. The sound of it is enjoyable to me. I'm sure I would laugh at myself, were I to learn that the six year old version of myself wanted to be a pirate. Or a pilot, perhaps," he added, fingers squeezing once and then releasing Cid's wrist altogether. "Thank you for listening," he said, though he hadn't really talked about anything. "I think I'll go to bed soon, unless you'd like me to keep you company a little longer." Cid sometimes seemed to enjoy Vincent's presence, and it was nice that someone did.

Cid ducked his head briefly, alternately touched and embarrassed. “You c'n stay if ya want to, I enjoy your comp'ny.” He wanted to reach out and touch Vincent so badly that his fingers were tingling, but he didn't want to make his friend uncomfortable. Instead, he made himself satisfied with their close proximity. It was a major success that Vincent could be this comfortable around someone without thinking about it and Cid was not about to ruin that achievement. He nodded slightly. “How 'bout this then, 'bout th' laughin': I'll laugh _with_ ya, not _at_ 'cha, how's that sound?” 

"That sounds nice, Chief," Vincent agreed. "I look forward to it." It was comfortable enough then to go on sitting quietly beside Cid, feeling the gentle breeze and watching it take the smoke, lifting it and carrying it away. "What do you suppose we would laugh about?"

Cid, too, enjoyed sitting with Vincent. The companionable silence never bothered him. It reminded him of the times they spent together when everyone was fighting to stop Meteor. Looking down at his boot, he scuffed it softly back and forth on the step on which it rested. “Well I dunno, Vince,” he said quietly, saddened by the realization that they had never really laughed before together. Even Vincent's smiles were rare gems gifted very infrequently. Would Vincent even be capable of laughing? Cid didn't think so. “I suppose whatever we might find funny, I guess.” He looked over at his friend. “I think I'd prob'ly pay good gil t' hear ya laugh just once, Vincent, 'n that's the god's-honest truth.” 

Vincent laughed just to hear him say it, a soft and short burst that ended in a warm glance at Cid. "I should ask how much, shouldn't I? I laugh all the time, Cid. You're just listening with the wrong set of ears." Or maybe Vincent wasn't using the right volume. Either was just as likely as the other. 

“Heh, maybe I am,” Cid agreed. Vincent's laugh sounded forced to Cid's ears, but it was a start and he would take it. 

"You're a kind man, Cid. I didn't believe that you would be, when we met." Cid had seemed so loud and rough and opinionated then. He still was those things, sometimes, but Vincent had learned that they could be good qualities just as easily when the right man possessed them. "Thank you, again, for listening. I'll go now and try to sleep. It's been getting harder to do again."

Cid was unsurprised by Vincent's confession. Over the years it had not escaped him that people viewed him as foul-tempered and unapproachable. It was what Vincent said next that had him concerned. Cid turned and looked at Vincent, worry plain on his face. He started to reach out to touch Vincent's face, but stopped himself, returning his hand to his thigh. “Is it th' nightmares again?” he asked solemnly. 

Vincent shook his head. "I don't even get that far most nights. It's gotten difficult to fall asleep at all. I don't know what changed. Maybe my body is caught up on rest, or maybe it remembers now that I always hated sleeping alone. And that was before those years of solitary slumber." He gave half a smile and got to his feet, reaching down one hand for Cid. "You should come inside as well. It's getting late."

Cid wasn't quite ready to go back inside yet, but his cigarette was finished, and who in his right mind would refuse taking Vincent's hand when he offered it? “H'yep, reckon so,” he said, flicking his butt down into the bucket at the bottom of the stairs and reaching up to take Vincent's hand. As Vincent hauled him to his feet, Cid waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his friend. “Well, if'n ya need someone t' warm your bed, then I'm your man,” he teased, nudging Vincent with an elbow while inside his body was heating up with something akin to expectation. He had to squash the feeling before it made him do something he would regret later. Cid pulled Vincent to a stop before they walked back inside. “But seriously though, Vince. If there's somethin' I c'n do t' help ya sleep better, you let me know, 'kay?” 

Vincent nodded, turning over Cid's first sentence for a while. The idea made something click inside him, but the click didn't quite catch. "I'll let you know," he said. "About both." Cid was probably joking about the first, but Vincent thought he might keep a line out for it anyway. 

“Y'do that,” Cid said, patting Vincent on the shoulder companionably with a heavy, warm hand. “I'll feel better if ya do.” He followed Vincent inside then closed and locked the front door. Cid gave Vincent a grin, followed immediately by a huge yawn. “Well, it was nice sittin' up with ya, Vince, 'n thanks fer humorin' Shera with th' movie. Guess I'll see ya in the mornin'!” He parted company with Vincent, yawning and scratching his stomach as he walked down the hall and into the bathroom to begin his evening ritual before bed. 

 

Vincent tried to sleep. He tried for hours, but the darkness and the silence that was broken by only the occasional scuffle or snort were oppressive. He couldn't keep his eyes shut, and he poured so much effort into his futile endeavor that he exhausted himself entirely. Even then, with heavy limbs and dry eyes, it was useless.

If it wasn't the quiet darkness, it was the faint stirring of memories; memories of feelings and of people both came to him best when he was unoccupied. Vincent supposed that was why he'd spent so much time keeping himself so busy. Even as he remembered the smothering darkness of that coffin, the pressure in his lungs when he realized that he couldn’t get enough air to breathe but couldn't die either, he thought also of an earlier time when the air had been clean and fresh, the room around him warm instead of cold and damp. He hadn't been alone then, instead sandwiched by the small bodies of the two dear boys who had been his brothers for such a short time. So long ago.

Sadness was easy to feel when he thought of them. It hit hard, leaving him wide awake all over again. Confusion came with it, and a sudden frantic need for human company.

Cid had said that he would help with anything Vincent needed. Cid always did his best to help, and there was nowhere else Vincent would consider going anyway. Quietly, as quietly as he did anything, he slipped from his room and down the hall to Cid's door. He considered knocking, but then Cid might wake. He seemed to be sleeping, judging by the even breaths and occasional muffled grunts and snores. After a few minutes of standing outside the door, Vincent decided just to push the door open.

He hadn't planned to speak, but a few words left his mouth anyway as he made his way toward Cid's bed. "Cid. Are you awake?" he asked stupidly.

Ever since Meteor, Cid had never really been able to sleep very deeply. Because of the dangers they had had to face every day and sometimes in the middle of the night, he had trained his body to sleep lightly whenever and wherever he could, and the slightest noise would rouse him if not to battle-ready status then at least aware enough to move away from the danger until he _was_ battle-ready, Venus Gospel in hand. Such a condition had come in handy when Shera had gotten sick and she had called to him in the middle of the night, her voice weak and pleading.

So it was again when his sleeping mind registered the voice near his bed. With a snort, Cid started awake, hand automatically going for a weapon that was not there. He sat up, blond hair sticking straight up and eyes blinking themselves awake. The voice was Vincent's, but he was not in a Tent and the others were not with him. Instead of sleeping dressed, he was clad only in his boxers and was in a warm, rumpled bed. That and his lack of weapon confused Cid and he looked around dazedly. “Vincent?” he mumbled slightly. “Honey, what is it? What happened? You okay?” 

"I'm fine. It's all right." Vincent took a few more steps now that Cid was aware of his presence. "I just couldn't sleep." Even in the dark, he could see the way Cid's hair had gone crazy, and he huffed, a small sound that was almost a laugh. One hand reached over idly to smooth down the blond spikes. "You said that you might be able to help."

Cid sat up more fully, though his brain was struggling to catch up, still foggy and half-asleep. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I did,” he ran his hand through his hair after Vincent's, then over his face. “What'd'ya need?” He squinted up at his friend, trying to see Vincent's face in the gloom. 

"I don't know. I shouldn't have woken you. I'm sorry," Vincent said, but he sat on the edge of Cid's bed just the same. "I hoped I could stay with you. Like I said, I'm not very good at sleeping alone. Maybe I can train my body into a routine, if I stay with you a few nights first."

Cid blinked at Vincent for a moment, caught between elation and disbelief. It seemed too good to be true, Vincent _asking_ to sleep in the same bed, but on the other hand it seemed like a surefire recipe for disaster. Still, he couldn't deny his friend when he saw how agitated Vincent was. “Sure, sure,” Cid said readily and scooted over, lifting the blankets to make room for Vincent next to him. “C'mon 'n lie down next t' me honey.” 

It was surprisingly natural to slip in beside Cid. They'd shared space plenty of times before, and in closer quarters than a large bed sometimes. He liked being near Cid. The man's body put out heat like few others Vincent had known, and his presence, now that Vincent knew him, was calming. "Thank you. You're sure you won't mind?"

Cid sighed happily and carefully slid his arm around Vincent's waist. It was only natural after all. “Not 'n th' slightest.” Cid pressed his chest up against Vincent's back, careful to keep his hips from getting too close to Vincent's backside lest the gunman feel the evidence of just _how_ okay the sleeping arrangements really were, and kissed the back of Vincent's head before indulging himself, for just a moment, of burying his nose in Vincent's hair. He heaved another lusty, contented sigh and felt his body relax and try to press even closer to Vincent's. “This gonna bother ya, Vince? 'R ya want me t' keep t' th' other side 'o th' bed?” he asked softly as he surreptitiously wriggled his arm under their pillows into a more comfortable position, figuring to get the formalities out of the way now instead of later when he did something to get himself in trouble. 

"You can stay," Vincent said, a little uncertain but understanding that it was Cid's bed. The man's arm around him didn't feel half-bad, either. He thought he might get used to it awfully quickly. He tucked his arms against his chest, but they didn't stay there for long; one of them slipped down to rest over the arm Cid had around his waist. "Thank you for letting me in," he said again, feeling himself relaxing more already.

He hoped he wouldn't disturb Cid's rest too much. The man was sighing an awful lot, but it didn't sound like annoyance. Maybe the pilot would get back to sleep even before Vincent managed to do the same. "Do you ever have trouble sleeping?" So much for that. Poor Cid would never sleep if Vincent couldn't make himself shut up.

Cid grinned against where his lips rested against Vincent's head. How had they gotten there? Oh well... “Nah,” he said. “Gettin' t' sleep 's never been th' problem, it's _stayin'_ asleep 's th' tricky bit. Been on th' road-” he yawned and continued “-s'long, 'n had shit happ'n s' much that m' body's trained t' sleep light. Seems like any little old noise'll wake m' up right quick.” The only way this set up could be better would be if he could press his _whole_ body up against Vincent, but he dared not for fear of the erection pushing against his boxers and aimed, quite pointedly, in Vincent's direction. Cid was nearly delirious, he was so content. Vincent felt perfect against him, right and solid, and Cid squeezed the arm around the gunman's waist. “Y' sure I ain't pesterin' ya too much? I don't wanna oversetp m'self now.” 

"There's nothing to worry about," Vincent assured Cid. He was the one overstepping, if anything. Cid had already allowed Vincent into his home and his routine, and now here was Vincent in his bed as well. "It's nice. When I was young, my younger brothers would often cling. After that..." He shrugged. "There were lovers, and good friends. Almost always someone willing to keep me close, or at least the constant promise of waking to know someone was just in the next bed or the next room. Then there were so many years there alone, and then traveling with all of you when I didn't have time to sleep. Now I think...it's strange to know that you're in the house but be unable to see you. Does that make sense?" he asked, turning in Cid's arms to face the man.

Cid shifted and made a sound of disappointment when Vincent resituated in his arms to face him, but he couldn't deny that the view was rather pleasing. In order to give Vincent a little more room to breathe, Cid pulled his arms back and scooted back so that he could look at Vincent without craning his neck. He placed both hands under his pillow and thought about what Vincent said. “I think it does,” he finally said. “I never felt that way m'self, I was an' only child 'n after I grew up never minded sleepin' alone, but I think I understand what you're sayin'.” He was probably making Vincent nervous and his friend was being too polite to say anything. Cid immediately felt guilty for crowding the gunman so badly. 

Vincent wondered if he'd said something wrong. Cid had been holding him and now seemed not to want to be so close anymore. "Do you want me to go, then?" As far as he could tell, Cid had just effectively said that he preferred sleeping alone. Hadn't he? Maybe he just didn't want to look at Vincent. Maybe Cid worried about Shera finding them, or had a problem with being in bed with Vincent after all. "It's all right if I don't sleep. You'll need it more."

Cid looked at Vincent in utter confusion for at least a full minute, then shook his head and chuckled. “Vincent,” he said warmly, “honey, ya think too much, I c'n see it on your face. Stop tryin' t' predict what I'm thinkin' or feelin' and concentrate on what _you're_ thinkin' and feelin'.” With a push from his elbows, Cid levered himself up and rolled Vincent over onto his back, following with his own until he was holding himself up on strong arms and looking down at the gunman. He shook his head. “It's like you're so worried 'bout upsettin' other people that you're convincin' yourself that'cha don't belong. And for th' record,” he reached up and tapped Vincent gently on the tip of his nose with a finger and grinning, “I was answerin' yer question, not playin' subtle games of 'tell Vincent t' go away'.” 

That was an interesting angle. Vincent thought he could get used to this, too, Cid's comforting presence all around him instead of just beside him. "I've spent a lot of time upsetting other people," he said, "I'd rather not do the same with you." He adjusted his legs, sinking more heavily against the mattress and pillows. "I guess there's no better way to prove you want me here than pinning me down," he said, "but I don't imagine you'll get much sleep like this. I might not either," he added, reaching up to touch Cid's face.

Cid's heart stuttered and nearly stopped when he felt Vincent's fingers on his face. _I c'n think o' better ways t' not get any sleep_ , Cid thought. “You're not gonna upset me, honey,” he whispered, “you'll only do that if ya leave.” Slowly the room began to heat up, or maybe that was his face as his heart woke back up with a vengeance, sending blood north as well as south. Vincent was _so close_ , just right there, all he would have to do was lower his head just so and he would be kissing him. Cid swallowed nervously; he wanted so badly to do just that, but what if it wasn't welcome? What if Vincent took offence or worse, it frightened the gunman? Vincent hadn't seemed to mind when he'd kissed the man in the hangar, maybe here wouldn't be any different. _Aw fuck it_ , he thought and slowly dropped his head to press his lips against Vincent's, softly, hesitantly as he tried to gauge the ex-Turk's mood through feel alone, all the while waiting for Vincent to push him back. 

Vincent made a soft sound, feeling both surprised and entirely unsurprised. With anyone else he would have thought this was the price for sharing a bed, but he trusted Cid and knew the man was far too good to demand things like that. He kissed Vincent because he wanted to, and Vincent had kissed him first. He had left behind his life of careless freedom to live and breathe and sleep within walls and social standards for this man, and it only made sense. Vincent certainly didn't feel repulsed by the idea, and the hand on Cid's cheek slid up further to cup the back of Cid's head as Vincent's lips answered the press of Cid's.

Maybe Cid even loved him, which was a novel sort of concept. Maybe Cid had given up just as much to bring Vincent into his life, just like-- 

He stopped all movements, swallowing as if he could capture the taste of Cid that way, and then asked, "Cid, what about Shera? Marrying Shera?" Was this really what Cid had meant he couldn't have, the thing he'd given up on chasing in order to think of Shera instead? Surely the man knew he had only ever needed to ask outright. His hands stayed just where they were, one in Cid's hair and the other resting against his side, poised to pull the man down closer.

Cid struggled mightily with bringing his attention back to what Vincent had said. It did little to cool the fires that kiss had kindled, though. Cid sighed softly, dropping his head down beside Vincent's, brushing his lips over the gunman's ear. He had come too far now to try and excuse what he had done, what he was _doing_ , with a lie. To do so would be to insult them both and Vincent deserved far better than that. “I could rattle off s' many reasons why this, what we're doin', couldn't work,” he said, his voice raspy and heavy, “but it always comes back t' this: I love, Shera, honey, but I'm _in_ love with you. I dunno when it happen'd or why, but I gave up tryin' t' figure it out a long time ago.” *

"How long ago? Cid?" Vincent asked, fingers twisting into the sheets where they lay against Cid's skin. In love with him? Only Cid. Only Cid could do that. Would it be over as soon as he believed it, like so much else? He had finally felt competent in his job and confident in himself when Hojo had killed him, had just begun to understand the gravity of the Meteor situation when the Lifestream had surged from nowhere and changed the rules again. "Will it be forever, like they say? I know a little something about forever."

 _Vincent is so fragile_ , Cid realized with a jolt, _prob'ly th' most vulnerable he's ever been right now 'n I made 'im like that._ He pulled his head back and looked down into the face that had haunted his dreams ever since they had woken him out of his slumber under that moldy old mansion. _All those years 'n all that shit he's had t' bury, t' keep from feelin' too much 'n drivin' himself insane 'n now here I am askin' 'm to try 'n wake all that up again..._ Such a revelation should have terrified any normal, rational man, but Cid Highwind was far from normal and tended to laugh in the face of rationality. What he saw in his friend's face and heard in his friend's voice caused a surge of protectiveness within him that nearly freaked him the hell out. “I dunno, honey,” he said softly, tugging gently on a strand of Vincent's long hair. “I can't see th' future 'n unlike you, I don't know shit about forever, but I ain't s' ignorant as t' not know what I'm feelin' 'n what I'm feelin' ain't gonna go away in a hurry. You're inside me, Vincent. Wedged in there s' tight that I couldn't get'cha out if I tried, 'n I'm pretty damn happy with that.” 

Vincent wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. Had Cid tried? Would he try? Try to get rid of him when he became bored, decide that what time they spent together was long enough and let forever fall by the wayside?

It didn't matter. Cid had made no promises, and the swell of respect he felt for the man over that was strong. "Good," Vincent said, bringing Cid down to lie against him. "I would have told you that forever was a lie. I'd rather have your truth any day. All the days you'll share with me." 

Cid felt closer to Vincent at that moment than he'd ever felt in all the short years that he'd known the man, so close in fact that he felt on the cusp of understanding, _really_ understanding the secretive ex-Turk. Carefully, he positioned himself more comfortably against Vincent, even going so far as to dare revealing to Vincent just how far his desire went when he slid his leg against Vincent's as he scooted down a little to rest his head against Vincent's chest. He wanted to wrap himself around his friend, to shield the man from the rest of the world with is own big body. He wanted to spend hours talking to Vincent, taking him places, walk on the beach in Costa del Sol, lay out under the stars and cook him dinners and all the other romantic bullshit that those people in love wanted to do. Instead, he raised his head up, draped an arm across Vincent's chest and propped his chin on it. “Oh I think 'lie' 's to strong a word there, Vince. Y' wanna know what I think? I think forever is what ya make of it. Y' believe it's a lie, why, it's gonna be a lie, but if ya start believin' it's somethin' else then I think ya might be surprised.” 

"Why don't we worry about that later," Vincent suggested, lifting his own head to watch Cid. The man had certainly made himself right at home on Vincent, and the gunman couldn't really say that bothered him. 

Cid was aroused. Vincent could feel that clearly now, though he'd hardly considered the possibility until now. He wasn't sure if he should offer to do anything about that, but Cid didn't seem to expect it. "I came here just to sleep, you know. You're a terrible distraction. Or did you plan to exhaust me after all?" he asked, uncertain even as he tried to tease.

“I know ya did,” Cid chuckled, “and I ain't gonna try anything, don't'chu worry.” Now that he thought about it, he wasn't exactly facilitating Vincent's chances for restful sleep what with the way he was using his poor friend as a body pillow. With a grunt, he slid off of Vincent and settled next to him. “Here, press up against me honey, lemme watch yer back while ya try and get some sleep.” He grinned at Vincent. “Maybe we'll _both_ get some sleep.” 

Sleep sounded nicer than ever, and Cid squashed against him made for a lot of interesting sensations. Vincent was only slightly surprised to learn that his body liked being against Cid's this way; the man was strong and warm and good-looking in his own way. Vincent pulled Cid's arm around him again and shut his eyes, but as soon as sleep came, the sun seemed to follow it. For the first time in a very long time, Vincent decided to sleep through the sunrise. He hoped Cid would agree with his plan of action.

Cid swam to consciousness slowly and peacefully. His body was heavy and warm and he felt content-- one might even call it happy. He knew without opening his eyes that Vincent was still stretched out beside him and by the loose way Vincent's body lay on the bed and the deep, even breathing he heard he knew that the gunman was quite deeply asleep. A wide, drowsy smile stretched Cid's lips and he gently buried his nose once again in Vincent's hair and inhaled. At that moment in time, everything was right and good and how it should be. _Good thing I don't gotta get up_ , Cid thought, _not that I would anyway what with 'im sleepin' s' peacefully right here. God I can't believe this is happenin'!_ Carefully, he tightened his arm a little around Vincent's waist and curled around the leaner body in front of him a bit more, simply enjoying being alive and with Vincent.


End file.
